Metal Monster
by MarshpyWritesStuff
Summary: Steampunk AU. Russia, born a monster, fights for happiness in a world that he doesn't belong. RusAme. Rated T for violence and death.


When Ivan was born, he was destined to be a monster. His pale neck was stained with a twisted, scarlet ring, created long ago by the umbilical chord. With her last breath, his mother uttered his name. His father took one look at the baby in his love's limp arms, and promptly threw him into the snow with nothing but an ID tag for the coroner.

When Ivan was found, he was near frozen. Blue curled up his tiny arms, and ice ate at weak legs. His torso was swaddled in snow and hypothermia. The only things unaffected were that neck with horrible red scar and his head. Cold blue eyes bored into the pitiful shivering mass, and unfeeling gray hands picked him up and placed him in a bassinet next to a roaring fire. A young girl with teal eyes stared curiously at the baby, something she had never seen except in old wive's tales.

When Ivan was taken to the doctors, they told the gray man that he was worthless. His body had been frozen. He would never be able use his body. "He needs a mechanic," they said, "Or he needs the coroner." So Ivan lost everything, except for his head, his organs, and that terrible scarred neck. Flesh was replaced by steel, bone by iron, warmth by coldness.

When Ivan was an infant, his eyes opened, and they were purple, nothing anyone had seen before. His hair grew, and it was pale like snow. The hard gray man got a name: General Zima. The young girl, Yekaterina, was suffering a fate like his, but much kinder. She would sit by the fire, holding the boy, and sing a lullaby. He would clumsily reach for her short, golden hair, and stare into her eyes as she smiled down at him.

When Ivan was a toddler, he learned what pain was. General Zima would come home from the Army and teach him. He was not father, nor would he ever be. "You are a pathetic excuse for a boy," the General would say, and he would send Ivan flying across the room. After he was done, Yekaterina would wipe the blood trickling down his prominent nose, and bring him to the local mechanic so his parts could get fixed. She was the best at coming up with excuses. Ivan liked her a lot. She was growing, just like him. He noticed how pretty she was getting, how her teal eyes would sparkle around men, how she changed her style of clothing, and how even the General would stare at her prominent breasts. But most of all, he loved her heart. He loved how she protected him always from the coldness of the world. Yekaterina even made him a pale pink scarf, to cover his atrocious neck.

When Ivan was a child, General Zima brought home another girl. This one was named Natalya, and she had long, blond hair, and dark blue eyes. Yekaterina and Ivan would sit by the fire with Natalya. Yekaterina would sing, while Ivan's clumsy metal fingers would braid her hair. Soon Natalya was following him wherever he went. Ivan didn't mind, it was a break from the pain and the coldness. The General sent him to school for the first time. Almost instantly, he was teased for his body, or lack of one. He was bigger than the other children. Every time he heard an insult, it hurt like a bullet to the chest. He only had three friends, named Eduard, Toris, and Raivis. They took care of him at first, but they too left him once he took off his scarf. Once they too had joined the endless bombardment of hatred, Ivan finally snapped. When a teacher finally managed to pull him away, Eduard, Toris, and Raivis were bloodied pulps in the snow, Ivan's metal was ruined, and the world, including Natalya and Yekaterina, stared on in shock. That afternoon, Ivan learned he truly was all the other students had said. A freak. A monster. A heartless beast.

When Ivan was home, Natalya became more insistent. She claimed that she loved him, and wanted to marry him. Every night, Ivan would run and hide, and Natalya would hunt him, feet muffled by black tights, a cold glint in her warm eyes, a knife in her small fist, and Yekaterina bustling behind to make sure nobody got hurt. General Zima hurt him even more for hiding from his fears, and Ivan would cry himself to sleep every night. Silently, or his beating would be doubled. "It's for your own good," the General would say, and Ivan believed him. He hated his weakness, his marred neck, his hideous metal body. But he never felt any physical pain. Slowly, he forgot what it was to feel. All he felt was a cold emptiness in his organ cavity.

When Ivan was finally trapped, Natalya advanced on the purple-eyed boy slowly and stealthily. A sick smile twisted across her face, like the deformity behind his scarf, but he felt nothing. Just a cold, sick dread. "Why won't you marry me?" she cackled. Natalya stuck the knife into Ivan's left arm, dragging it down to his elbow joint and tearing out gears and circuitry. He felt it grow dead, and the first feeling he felt in a long time build in his organ cavity. Pure, red, rage. He lunged out of his hiding spot, easily pinning the smaller girl to the ground. His right hand was clamped against her throat, and thin, bony hands clawed at steel. An inhuman roar escaped his thin lips. Natalya's eyes widened and her face blended to match her dress. It wasn't until she went limp that General Zima and Yekaterina were able to pull him off of her. His last memory of his sisters were the General dragging them away, and pure shock on their faces. That beating he received that night would be the worst beating of his life, and his emotions faded into the background.

When Ivan was a teenager, the doctors stated that he had finished growing. He received his last body: a titanic metal husk. When he gave the news to the General, he was promptly enlisted into the Army Cadets. Ivan stood out from the other cadets, mostly because he was taller and stronger than the rest. He could train harder and work harder. However, it didn't make him any friends, but Ivan forgot what it was like to have a friend. Alone was better. Alone was when people didn't pick on him. The worst was Gilbert, a fellow cadet. Whenever the white-haired boy would come near, his red eyes would sparkle with malice. He was the only one able to get damage done on Ivan: he was the only one strong enough. Ivan didn't understand why people hated him, especially Gilbert. He and Gilbert were more similar than they both let on. They were raised by tough men, they were freaks of nature, but Gilbert was destined to be a hero. Ivan was drained. He let Gilbert rip him from limb to limb, because he just didn't care anymore. He was sent to the Army's mechanic shop, and that was when he first met Alfred.

When Ivan first saw Alfred, Ivan was on the operating table. His arms and legs were lying in pieces around him and oil was splattered on the table: the work of Gilbert. A man, the same age as him, walked into the room. His golden blond hair floated lazily around his head, except for a single cowlick in the front. His lean body was covered in a grimy white blouse, tan pants, and a brown leather apron. He wore a goofy grin on the bottom half of his face, and the top half was covered by golden goggles which pronounced sky blue eyes. He pulled on gloves, and stared inquisitively at the man below him. "Alright, lets see what we got here," he announced, and he removed the goggles. Ivan saw that gears and metal constructed most of his forehead and the top of his nose, forming a mask around his eyes. He felt a warmth in his organ cavity. His heart, something he had forgotten existed. It was the smoothest repair of his life, and Alfred's deft fingers did wonders to Ivan's metal body. Soon, he found himself instigating Gilbert on purpose, just so he could spend more time with Alfred. The two began to talk, and Ivan loved how warm Alfred made his cold body feel. He hoped Alfred liked him too. His suspicions were confirmed when he learned that mechanics taste like grease, beef jerky, and home.

When Ivan was on a rare break, he would see rich people at tea parlors, being served by robots not unlike him, sneering at the audacity of today's youth. "Two men being in a relationship is absolutely absurd," they would say. "It is against the law of both God and man." Ivan would spill his fear to Alfred, and the mechanic's warm presence was enough to comfort him. "We could escape one day," Alfred would say. "We could move far away from here, and set up our own mechanic shop." It was enough to keep Ivan going throughout the brutal training and the torture. Ivan showed him his neck, and Alfred named it beautiful. In the meantime, the two would sneak out at night to the River of Fire, where all metal came from, and just bask in each other's presence. For the first time, Ivan felt human.

When Ivan was discovered, the two were kissing in the mechanic shop. Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and Gilbert led many leading army officials in, including General Zima. "Look at this disgusting behavior!" he crowed. Ivan felt pure terror build up. "How horrible!" one sniffed. "Indeed!" another cried. "Punishment is death!" someone whispered, and Ivan heard clanking metal coming from him. General Zima stepped forward, each footfall perfectly spaced. His cold blue eyes bored into Ivan. In one fluid motion, he pulled out a revolver, and promptly shot Alfred in the heart.

When Ivan collapsed at his lover's side, time seemed to stand still. His organ cavity felt so much anguish, pent up over all that lost time. He brought Alfred's cold, bloody hand to his wet lips, and pressed them slowly yet firmly against his own. His own scarf grew bloody, but he didn't care anymore. He wasn't welcome anywhere in this world anymore. He looked up with pure hatred at the Generals before him. Ivan grabbed a stunned Gilbert, and smashed his head into the table. Gilbert collapsed onto the floor, red eyes devoid of any regret. Before any of the Generals could react, he plowed through them, leaving a trail of salty tears.

When Ivan stood on the precipice above the River of Fire, where he and Alfred had sat all those times, all he could do was cry. His one and only thing to live for was gone. There was no leaving, there was no mechanic shop. There was only the emptiness in the center of the sadness in his organ cavity. He could hear the jalopies growling behind him, red headlights glowing evilly behind him. Ivan stared into the glow of the River. So this was what Hell looked like. If so, any hell would be better than a life without Alfred. Purple eyes stared back into red, then he turned to the River. Yekaterina's smile, Natalya's eyes, and Alfred's hand seemed to stretch out of it, and Ivan smiled at the invitation. He heard angry footsteps and clicking revolvers, and knew that it was time. He took one last look into the world that never would accept him, a monster, clutched his scarf tight to his chest, and plunged into the River of Fire.

When the coroner collected Ivan out of the River of Fire, a monster who was twenty years overdue, all he could find was a half-melted wad of steel and iron, and a heart.

AN: This is a story I wrote for the Week of Hetalia day one, so you may have already seen this on Tumblr. I just wanted to publish this on here. I know I haven't posted anything in a while, buy I've been very busy with school. I've been sporadically working on a Cardverse story, and a SpaMano story. I hope to maybe publish them eventually, but for now, they will be sitting on my computer, unfinished.


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